


Game On

by catsteww



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst and Humor, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Post-Break Up, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:51:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3466661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsteww/pseuds/catsteww
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek broke up. But that wasn't even the worst part. They were both so stubborn, and too in love with their apartment to move. Thus began the war to see who could make the other move out first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game On

**Author's Note:**

> JUST SO YOU KNOW. Jordan/Lydia is mentioned briefly. Allison/Scott are a thing (but also brief). If there are any mistakes, feel free to point them out!

The plan came to Stiles in the shape of a movie rental. He had fully intended to spend his Friday night locked up inside with a cheesy movie and a bottle of vodka -- that was currently nestled snug in his jeep. But in order for this to be the night of nights, Stiles needed to choose the perfect movie to drown his sorrows in.  


He would never admit how much he loved RomComs. Never. He had lived 21 years of his life making people believe that he was indifferent and could tolerate them when necessary. But God almighty, he secretly fucking loved them. Peeking at his surroundings, he made sure the coast was clear of any viewers before inconspicuously sliding down the aisle to scope out the latest movies to make him weep over his love life.  


His eyes quickly flicked past the Dramas -- never in his life, he fucking hated those-- when his gaze caught on one comedy that he had heard of, but never seen. It was something about a couple who had gotten married by accident, then were forced to live together. Only they couldn't stand each other and did everything they could to make the other leave.  


Stiles' eyes widened like saucers, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as all sorts of schemes flashed through his mind.  


Holy shit, relevant. Though being broken up for almost a month now, Stiles was still sharing an apartment (a fucking perfect apartment) with his now ex-boyfriend. They both refused to leave the perfect apartment, therefore they were now roommates who happened to have once fucked on every surface of said apartment. Stiles' heart twinged at the past tense of that sentence. He knew he wasn't over Derek yet. How could he be? They had dated for a little over 3 years. Stiles gave Derek everything -- from his virginity to his heart. And now he had just kind of accepted that he and Derek would be forced to live together platonically from this point on.  


Never once did he think about getting Derek to leave. Until now. Who knew better than Stiles how to piss Derek off? Stiles knew just how to get under his skin and have Derek running for the hills.  


Smiling now, Stiles forewent the RomComs and settled on a thriller, suddenly feeling a lot more confident with his future.  


He was going to have Derek running for his life, and that perfect apartment would be all his.

\-----------------  
The problem wasn't even that Stiles was forced to see Derek every day. Okay, that was a problem. But after a month, Stiles had gotten over it. He was totally fine. He was back to normal. 100%. ...No, he wasn't, but he was a 'fake it 'til you make it' guy, and he refused to show Derek any weakness, dammit. Because it was a mutual break up. They were always arguing, had horrible communication, and didn't trust each other as much as they should. It didn't help that they were both broken and had had bad experiences with trust in the past. And so, naturally, after almost 4 years together, things fell apart. Regardless of all this, Stiles was slowly convincing everyone that he was on his way to getting over Derek.  


The problem, though, was having to still live with him.  


Stiles wasn't about to be the one to pack up and leave, though. Their apartment was a lucky shot they managed to snag almost 2 years ago. The rent was cheap for a corner unit, with all new appliances, and a kitchen that made Stiles cream his pants (literally, a couple times. But that was also with Derek's help, and they just happened to be in the kitchen). Plus they were just along the preserve. That had specifically called out to Derek, who was secretly a wild animal/mountain man and spent half his time outside. When they had been dating, Stiles more often than not found himself being dragged along with Derek on his walks in nature.  


Point being: the apartment was fucking priceless, and Stiles was not about to let it go to his ex boyfriend.  


Therefore, he set part 1 of the plan into motion on a Tuesday after he crawled back home from work.  


He made sure to make a big meal for himself, puttering happily around the kitchen with Derek nowhere to be found. He was most likely out becoming one with nature.  


After making and finishing his dinner, Stiles dumped all his dishes into the sink; a big pot with sauce slathered inside it, a couple bowls, and a mug he had made cake in that was going to stick since he didn't rinse it. Satisfied with the pile, and hardly being able to fit around the dishes to wash his hands, he snickered to himself and plopped down to watch TV.  


Derek came in an hour or so later. As soon as he shut the door, Stiles saw his eyes hone in on the pile of dishes that were nearly overflowing from the sink.  


"Why the hell did you need to use so many dishes?"  


Stiles feigned innocence.  


"I was feeling spaghetti. And then I decided to make a chocolate mug cake." He shrugged. "I'll do them tomorrow."  


They both knew he wouldn't. They also both knew that Derek had to have an empty sink. It was just a thing. Stiles kind of understood it, but not really. Dishes on the counter were fine, but once you set something in the sink, Derek saw red.  


"'I'll do them tomorrow', my ass," Derek uttered, shifting around the dishes to plug the sink and start filling it up with water.  


Stiles held a pillow to his mouth to hide his grin.  


\-----  


It was really quite easy for Stiles to be a pain in Derek's ass. Step 2 came in the form of wet towels left on the bathroom floor. Fresh out of the shower, Stiles made sure to dry himself extra thoroughly, before dropping the towel on the floor in a wet pile, foregoing the laundry hamper just feet away.  


A couple days of this and Derek finally snapped, charging out of the bathroom with a sopping towel fisted in one hand.  


"Really, Stiles?"  


Stiles turned his wide-eyed gaze to him.  


"What?"  


"The hamper is literally 2 feet away from the shower."  


Stiles let a slow grin spread across his face, "Oops."  


Derek narrowed his eyes at Stiles' shit-eating grin, before he let the hand holding the towel drop to his side, his face carefully blank.  


"Oh, I see what you're doing."  


"What am I doing, Derek?"  


Stiles followed Derek's glance at the dishes once again crowding the kitchen sink, then back to the towel.  


"I know what you're doing," Derek repeated, dropping the towel to the floor before slowly stalking towards Stiles, who was ashamed to admit he was getting slightly turned on.  


Derek only stopped when he could lean forward and place his hands on either side of Stiles' head against the back of the couch. "Nice try, it'll take more than that."  


Stiles slanted his eyes. "I'm just getting started."  


Derek mirrored his expression.  


"Game on."  


\----  


Stiles briefly wondered if Derek now knowing of his plan would do anything to change the game. He really hoped not, 'cause he couldn't stand a chance when Derek got all competitive about something. The man was a machine with impressive perseverance.  


His suspicions were confirmed at 5 a.m. Tucked away nicely in his toasty blanket, slack-jacked and half disappearing into his fluffy pillow, Stiles slept soundly. He had had class the day before, followed by an 8 hour shift, and didn't get home til past midnight. Today was going to be his sleeping in, lounging around in his underwear, day.  


But 5 o'clock on the dot, Derek makes a smoothie.  


Stiles jolted from his nest of blankets, heart beating a mile a minute. His head whirled towards his door -- which he had closed the night before, but it was now wide open, giving him a front row seat to the horrible whirring and crunching of the blender. Fucking Derek.  


No one messed with Stiles' sleep.  


Throwing himself out of bed, Stiles furiously kicked away the blankets that tangled around his legs.  


He marched toward the door and leaned out to glare into the kitchen. He could feel his monstrous bed head waving 'good morning', but he refused to let that make him any less intimidating.  


Derek, in all his workout gear glory, pretended to be surprised at Stiles' presence.  


He stopped the blender, looking shocked. But Stiles knew better than to fall for that.  


"Did I wake you?"  


Stiles gritted his teeth.  


After not getting a response, Derek let his mouth curl up into a feral grin.  


Stiles opened his mouth to speak, when Derek turned the blender on again, effectively blocking out whatever Stiles had to share with the class.  


He waited (semi) patiently for the blender to stop, grinding his teeth and glaring all the while.  


When it did stop, Derek turned to fish a glass out of the cupboard, and Stiles opened his mouth to tear him a new one. Except Derek was pretty fast with grabbing his glass, and turned the blender on again before Stiles could speak.  


Stiles growled a frustrated noise before throwing his hands in the air. Whirling around, he slammed his bedroom door behind him and threw a pillow over his head to try to block out the noise so he could get back to sleep.  


This meant war.

\-----

After a week of wet towels, dirty dishes, blenders at ass o'clock in the morning, Stiles began to have video game marathons until 3 a.m., just to keep Derek awake. The TV was perched on the wall separating Derek's room from the living room. It was impossible for him to ignore the sounds.  


Stiles knew Derek wasn't sleeping much. Being a naturally early riser, Derek went to bed early and got up at the crack of dawn. But with Stiles' video games being as loud as they were, he wasn't falling asleep until well after midnight.  


This was all going to Stiles' plan, until Derek started a new tactic.  


It was common knowledge that Derek was attractive. He was, hands-down. Dark hair, light eyes, stubble that could breath life back into the dead. He was also very aware of his body, and kept fit and toned and -- uugghh. It just wasn't fair. Especially not when Stiles knew what all that beauty was capable of.  


So when Derek started just shedding clothes in Stiles' presence, it was a problem. Because now he was popping a lot of angry boners as of late. And Derek knew exactly what he was doing.  


Derek would come home from work, see Stiles either in the kitchen or on the couch, and he'd leisurely slide off his shirt, flexing a bit and stretching as he moved to his bedroom. A few times he would drag his fingers lightly across the back of Stiles' neck, just to get a reaction out of him.  


But one morning, as Stiles angrily lay in bed listening to the sounds of Derek's blender, he decided it was about time he took things one step further, too.  


He waited for the blender to officially end. Glancing out his open door (because Derek opened it just for him to get a front-row seat to The Blender Show every fucking morning), Stiles shimmied a bit in his bed so he had a good view of Derek starting on washing the dishes. Or, more importantly, Derek had a good view of him.  


He slowly trailed his hand underneath his shirt, tweaking his nipples and rubbing his chest, while the other hand slid past the elastic of his boxers.  


He already had a morning wood going, so it was all too easy to put his plan into motion.  


Softly playing with his balls, Stiles shimmied the blanket a little bit lower so if Derek looked over, he'd see just what Stiles was up to.  


Rolling onto his stomach and propping himself up with an elbow, Stiles finally gripped his shaft, pressing his thumb to the head of his cock as he leisurely pumped up and down. He circled the head and pressed down again, tightening his fist. A low moan slipped past his lips, and he distantly heard Derek's dish-washing duties pause.  


Smirking to himself, Stiles bit his lower lip and started thrusting into his fist.  


"Oh god . . ." he moaned breathlessly into his arm. Another thing that got Derek going? Stiles' mouth. Along with Derek being gorgeous, it was also common knowledge that Stiles never shut up. Especially during sex. And man, did Derek love it. Being a man of few words himself, just a few dirty words from Stiles, and Derek came undone.  


Stiles started pumping faster, his hips snapping up to meet his hand. He could feel Derek's eyes on him.  


"Jesus ... Christ," his voice went up in a breathy whimper, his mouth rushing with saliva as precome continued to dribble down his hand.  


Derek had stopped washing dishes entirely, if the silent kitchen was anything to go by.  


In a moment of 'fuck it', Stiles twisted on his mattress to see into the kitchen. Sure enough, Derek was watching him. With lust in his eyes and a slack jaw, hands tight around the plate he was washing. Stiles looked into his eyes and arched his back, now putting on a show.  


His breathing became heavier, quicker, and his stomach began to spasm in warning.  


"Derek," he moaned shamelessly, spilling onto his sheets, his hand and stomach in the splash zone. He breathed heavily as he rolled onto his back and let his shirt ride up as he ran a hand through his hair.  


He and Derek watched each other for a good few minutes, Stiles' chest still heaving, before Derek was out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.  


Stiles grinned, exhausted, knowing he had regained the upper-hand.

\---

The bottom line was that Stiles would always love Derek. He realized it when he was 16 years old and first saw Derek in the Sheriff's office. Stiles had come to fuck around while he waited for his dad to get off so they could go to the movies. Derek's sister Laura was a deputy, and had somehow (black-mailed, threatened, all of the above) gotten Derek to bring her a lunch that day. And after literally bumping into him, Stiles took one look and knew that they were going to be something.  


Sure, they didn't get together until he was officially 18 years old, but that made it kind of even more special to him. They had a history. His dad worked with Derek's sister. Their lives were entangled and connected in so many ways that even after being broken up, they never really would be out of each other's social circles.  


It was depressing. And a part of Stiles whispered that that might have been one of the reasons why he was still living with Derek. It was a way to guarantee that Derek would always be there. Sure, not in the way that he would ideally want, but still in his life, regardless.  


Stiles stood in front of the pile of dishes in the sink, and frowned. Did he really want to chase Derek out of the apartment, after all? Living with him wasn't bad or anything, it was just painful. But wouldn't that be less painful than not getting to see him ever?  


Thoroughly chastised, Stiles rolled up his sleeves. He plugged the sink and drizzled soap over the dishes while it filled with water. It was almost full when he heard the front door open. He didn't turn around, but heard Derek's footsteps come to a stop behind him.  


Derek pressed against his back, reaching around him to shut off the tap.  


Stiles attempted to control his heart with Derek breathing down his neck and nosing behind his ear.  


Derek pressed his lips to Stiles' ear and whispered, "Remember when I fucked you right here against the counter when we first moved in?"  


A full body shiver coursed through Stiles' body and he let Derek spin him around, meeting him halfway in a bruising kiss.  


Stiles' heart was singing and his skin flushed pleasantly. He let his fingers drag up the back of Derek's neck to tangle in his soft hair -- because he could. He sucked on Derek's lower lip and gasped as Derek started peppering kisses down his neck, his beard scratching against the skin and sending tingles up Stiles' spine.  


"Derek," he breathed, pulling him back up into another wet kiss. "Fuck, Derek I--" He broke off into a moan when Derek palmed him through his jeans.  


They had just gotten Derek out of his shirt when there was a knock on the door. It took a moment for it to register to the both of them, but when it did, Stiles was the first to react. He reluctantly pulled away from Derek and quickly tried to flatten his hair.  


Derek wiped at Stiles' lower lip before chasing him into another quick kiss.  


"I have to get the door," Stiles whispered into Derek's mouth.  


"I'll get it," Derek whispered back. Except he seemed too content with pressing as close as he could to Stiles. Plus he was shirtless.  


Stiles finally pulled back, dodging out of the way when Derek chased after him. He'd answer the door, be done in two seconds, then drag Derek to bed.  


The girl on the other side of the door was familiar, but Stiles couldn't place her fully.  


"Hey, what can I do for you?"  


"Hi," She smiled, and Stiles instantly remembered. Terry? Kerry? Kelly? Whatever her name was, she worked at the cafe down the street and fucking loved flirting at Derek every chance she got. Even if Stiles was there, it was like he didn't exist. Did Terry/Kerry/Kelly even see him when he stood next to Derek? Although Derek never flirted back, it got to the point where Stiles dragged him out of there and they hadn't returned ever since.  
"Is Derek ready? He told me to meet him at 7ish," She continued, trying to poke her head over Stiles' shoulder to see into the apartment.  


Stiles' breathing slowed significantly. He felt his heartbeat in his ears.  


"What."  


"Stiles-" Derek started softly from somewhere behind him. He tugged a bit on the back of Stiles' shirt, but it was ignored.  


"What are you guys meeting for?" Stiles asked calmly.  


The girl blushed and tucked her hair behind her ear, eyes flicking to the floor.  


"We're going to the movies. And there's a new restaurant we're going to check out."  


Right. Stiles was the idiot of the century. Thinking Derek wanted him back, when he actually just wanted a convenient fuck. Maybe it was to relieve the tension he had in anticipation for his date. What ever the reason, Stiles was out.  


"Fucking right," Stiles breathed, shakey.  


He shut the door on the girl and whirled around, ignoring Derek trying to get his attention. He slid on his shoes and snatched his keys before throwing open the apartment door and marching out.  


He heard voices behind him and refused to listen in, his eyes burning as he stepped into the elevator. He pressed the button for the main floor but just as the doors were sliding shut, Derek slipped in, crowding Stiles up against the wall.  


"Stiles, hear me out."  


"Hear you out?" Stiles repeated, incredulously. He slapped Derek's hands away. "What, were you hoping we'd have a quickie and then you'd be on your way on a fucking date?"  


"No, Stiles--"  


"Every fucking time we go to that cafe, she makes a pass at you!"  


The tears in Stiles' eyes made Derek silent.  


"You know how much I hated that, and you had always laughed at me and said that I had nothing to worry about! And I believed you, really, I did, but then we break up and not even a month later, she's the one at our fucking doorstep?!"  


"She asked me out, and--"  


"And you agreed! The point is, you're going out, regardless of who asked who."  


Derek stormed up to Stiles again, eyebrows furrowing as he glared him down.  


"Well guess what, Stiles? You and I? We aren't together anymore. If I want to start moving on, I can. I know you have."  


Stiles tried not to let that first part sting as much as it did.  


He spluttered, flailing his arms. "What?"  


"Oh, come on," Derek scoffed. "Jordan? You guys have been inseparable the months leading up to our break up. You were probably happy to be done with me so you guys could go run off together."  


Stiles couldn't remember the last time he was this angry. Derek was fucking stupid.  


"Jordan?! He's been planning to propose to Lydia, and I've been helping him prepare for it!" Stiles yelled. "Fuck you! You've never trusted me around other guys! I'm not about to jump every one of my friends! Why would I even be tempted when I've got you?"  


After all the yelling, the silence of the elevator was even heavier. The 'ding' that echoed in the small space made Stiles jump, glancing over to see they were on the main floor.  


Chest heaving, Stiles blinked rapidly to dry his eyes.  


"Sorry, had," he corrected hoarsely. "When I had you. As you so graciously put it, we're not together anymore," he whispered.  


Clearing his throat, Stiles straightened up and looked over Derek's shoulder, not feeling strong enough to look him in the eye.  


"You can keep the fucking apartment. You win. I don't care anymore."  


Without another word, Stiles slid past Derek, and the elevator doors sealed shut between them.

\-----

Back at square one, Stiles found himself in the movie store, nursing a water bottle to treat his hangover, and he was zipped up in his comfiest, oldest hoodie that Scott managed to sneak out of his apartment while Derek was out. He glanced over the movie titles, picking one up. Except he didn't know if he was feeling '13 Going on 30'. Maybe 'Knight and Day' instead.  


He hummed, considering, eyes still burning from his latest crying fit just an hour earlier.  


He's usually not an emotional guy. Derek just got on his fucking nerves and knew just what to say to ruin him.  


Scott had been more than accommodating, though. As soon as he opened his front door and set eyes on Stiles and the state he was in, he mother-ducked Stiles into the house and wrapped him in blankets, fed him, made sure he was hydrated, and most importantly, let him just cry.  


Allison snuggled up on Stiles' other side to effectively create a warm, loving sandwich between the three of them.  


It was one of the best sleeps Stiles had had lately, not waking up to that goddamn blender.  


After a few more minutes considering his options, Stiles sighed and shoved the movies back onto the shelf. He wasn't ready for light-hearted love stories. He truly had reached the bottom of the barrel when he found himself in front of the dramas, actively considering a couple.  


"What has my life become?" he murmured, reaching for 'P.S. I Love You'. Jesus, he hated romantic dramas. Life was too depressing as it was. He avoided them like the plague, but desperate times, and all.  


He shuffled up to the cash register, sipping at his straw as the cashier told him the total. He was just counting out the exact change when the bell over the door of the store rang, and a voice firmly said, "Fucking put that away, you don't survive through romantic dramas."  


Stiles' bloodshot eyes met Derek's, and he quickly looked back down and cleared his throat. He continued to count his change.  


"I like Gerard Butler-"  


"You hate crying and it will make you cry," Derek cut him off.  


Stiles inhaled deeply, trying not to say something childish like 'well you make me cry but I still like you'.  


He decided to ignore Derek until he went away. But just as he was about to hand the cashier his money, Derek gently pushed in front of him, pulling him away from the desk. He twisted around and grabbed the movie back.  


"Go get one of those sappy romantic comedies you secretly love," Derek said softly, as if to not spook Stiles.  


Stiles swallowed thickly, staring down at Derek's chest.  


"I'm not in the mood."  


But, for some reason, he let Derek herd him over to the RomComs anyway.  


Derek cleared his throat, his jaw clicking as he struggled to speak. Stiles waited patiently.  


"I'm sorry," he finally said. "I didn't --" Derek sighed, scrubbing at his face.  


"I was in the fucking cafe to grab comfort food, and Kelly was there, and knew I was down so she asked if I wanted to go out and get my mind off things. I thought that I could either make the first step to getting over you, or even make you jealous with that little game we had going on, seeing who would break first. But then --" His beautiful green gaze flickered all around Stiles' face, and Stiles tried not to shrink away into his hoodie, knowing he looked like a train wreck.  


"But then I get home, and you're doing dishes, and wearing a shirt you stole from me years ago because it had 'fucking convenient thumb holes', as you said. And I-- I couldn't just-- I couldn't get over you that fast."  


Stiles shuffled his feet, playing idly with the shelf beside him. For once, he didn't know what to say, and it was Derek doing all the talking.  


"I... I don't know what to say," he said quietly, shrugging one shoulder.  


"Tell me we can try this again," Derek replied.  


"'This'?"  


"Us."  


Stiles took a step back, shaking his head.  


"Derek, we fight all the fucking time."  


"And we still love each other all the fucking time," Derek cupped Stiles' cheeks, rubbing his thumbs under the red rims of Stiles' eyes. "We need to communicate better. And trust, and everything else will follow after. And we can do it if we both work at it."  


He gently leaned in to press his forehead to Stiles'.  


"I don't want to lose you," he whispered, like sharing a secret.  


Stiles pressed his lips together, squeezing his eyes shut.  


"I don't want to lose you, either," he confessed just as quietly.  


When the kiss came, it was so soft and, dammit, tender. There wasn't any other way to describe it. Derek's thumbs were still stroking Stiles' cheeks, and he sucked Stiles' lower lip into his mouth.  
"I'm sorry I didn't trust you with Jordan," he murmured into Stiles' lips.  


Stiles leaned in for another kiss, gripping Derek's jacket like a lifeline.  


"I love you," Stiles breathed. "I'm in love with you so badly, we have to make this work. I'm determined. We can make this work."  


Derek smiled softly, nuzzling into Stiles' neck as he pulled him in tightly.  


"Game on."

**Author's Note:**

> pssst here I hail: wolfybums.tumblr.com


End file.
